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Home and Bond
Slag returned to the yet another temporary home for himself and Starchamber. Wounded again, his armor is scarred with heat burns and he's ginger with his right knee as it gives out a painful whine with each step. But he slept well, his hands covered in energon of another and with a present. A tooth ripped from a jaw of a creature. He knows what types of gifts his femme likes, oh yeah. Unfortunately, Starchamber is not home - in fact, she's nowhere to be found in their secondary ramshackle domicile. Instead, waiting for Slag, leaning against the wall, is an Arachnicon. He's blue and purple, leaning against a wall in root mode; his altmode legs are folded to his back like boney wings, and his humanoid arms are crossed over his chest. He's just waiting - almost looks like he's nodding off. For the record, the dyno does not look like he's in the mood for visitors. Be it the local constabury, or Primus' Witnesses. Slag gives a low rumble in his throat towards the insect. "Wut." he demands in a flat tone, looking around for the femme and shrugs. She probably went off to get repairs or an energon run or somesuch. "Who are you?" He's not an insect, and he'd protest loudly if he could, y'know, metapose. He can't. Instead, the spidermech startles awake, all of his limbs twitching. "OH! Oh, oh, sorry about that - name's Jumper. You looking for someone?" he asks casually. "Large femme. White. Large.. wings." Slag says, frowning at Jumper. "Not really looking. Can take care of herself." the large dyno says, even as he looks down at the Arachnicon. Insect. Whatever. Bug. "Oh good! Yeah, she said you'd be here, she sent me to wait for you," Jumper explains genially. "You... look pretty roughed up. Maybe you better come with me then; she's getting repairs in Yuss, and she wanted you to know where she was so you wouldn't worry." Well, at least it wasn't a demand for ransom. That would have gone poorly. Like.. Liam Neeson poorly. "Did she describe who'd you'd be looking for? A bigaft dyno form?" he shakes his head before Slag blows out an intake from the side of his mouth. "This? Play date. Catbot thought it could overpower me. Made it fossil." he snorts as he starts the long walk to Yuss. "She said you'd be a big guy with horns and a tail. Rough, might want to beat me up," Jumper grins. "I just wanted to make sure you were the right big horned guy. We have a lot of bots with horns around here." He moves away from the wall and transforms into an agile blue-purple jumping spider. "Follow me, then, I'll take you right to her. Hope you're not easily disturbed." "Oh. I just get all squeamish at the sight of energon." says the mech with energon encrusted knuckles as Slag does not transform. Instead, he stays in his root mode and just walks with that thump-step of a bad knee actuator. "Go on ahead. Will catch up." the large dynobot promises as he continues to walk. Silly going crazy in beast mode sucks when it comes to travel. "Yeaah, I thought so," Jumper chuckles. He keeps up the pace as he acts as Slag's personal sherpa into Yuss. ++ Yuss ++ The little village of Yuss is the native land of the Arachnicon frametype, and supports an industry of woven, colored and decorated meshsteel fabric that is traded at high prices. Considered a luxury only high castes can afford, it is yet another reason that the powers that be have turned a blind eye to the "rebellious" state of the polity. Almost tribal in design, the buildings are uniquely suited to the multi-legged motion of the frametypes, with woven bridges, fluttering banners and a riotous display of colors and patterns. Those that live here ignore the strictures of castes and chose their own paths, making them highly suspicious to the traders that come to haggle over their wares. The rumors that the Arachnicons simply -devour- attackers and troublemakers doesn't help, but certainly keeps respect and peace with other frametypes. Belief in the gods, particularly the worship of the Primal Beasts and the Lord of Beasts, Onyx, is more the rule than the exception here, and outsiders do well not to violate any local customs or lore. Jumper leads Slag along a trader's path, catching up to a caravan coming for more meshsteel garments and fabric. The traders seem oddly respectful of Slag and offer him a place on the transport if he wants to move a little faster, and more at ease. Slag declines all such offers. He may be slow. He may be wounded. But he's a proud and confident mech and every step he takes will be his own. He is by very definition the only way he will leave anything unwillingly is on his shield because he has no spark left. He cannot recollect a time that he or any of the other Dynobots have been here as the golden headed Dynobot looks around the place, not with contempt but with a genuine sense of curiosity. Now where could that femme be? Jumper skitters ahead. "Your friend is up at the temple getting repaired, I'll let her know you're coming!" He's every bit as fast as a car as he makes his way towards the biggest structure in the village - a very old, golden-bronze temple that is decorated with gargoyles in the shape of ... well, those things look like Slag and the other Dinobots - as well as Chimera, and other monstrous creatures. As Slag moves through the village, the residents stop and either bow their heads or even genuflect. It's like they think he's some kind of god. "Temple. Why would she go to temple for repairs?" Slag seems genuinely confused by this. He didn't ask Starchamber to renounce the Decepticons. Nor would he. It's just something he figures that would be addressed in due time. Looking at the decorations as he climbs the steps, the large dino frowns a little. Not from uncomfortableness, it's just frakking weird! "Because that's where the priestess is, and she's our healer. Duh." Jumper crawls up the walls and enters one of the higher doors intended for fliers - or those that can just walk walls and go on inside. Past the open archway and into the great hall of the temple, Slag will find Starchamber lying across a rather huge altar. There's a pale green and white Arachnicon fembot hovering over her torso while a couple of very small cricket insecticons are on her waist and legs. The crickets look as if they're nibbling on damaged areas, and the Arachnicon's forelimbs are weaving silksteel over Starchamber's injuries with the speed of a sewing machine needle. Slag steps in, lifting a hand to his optic visor as it becomes a bit brighter and the mech gives a gentle 'huh' as he continues his steps, pausing for a moment to make sure he doesn't step on anyone smaller than him as he approaches the altar where Starchamber is laid out for her repairs. "Brought gift. Tooth." the dynobot comments as he sets the Lionmode tooth down on the bed next to Starchamber. "Also found good crystals, can use for trade. Good resonance. Carry the sound well." "Thank you Slag," Starchamber smiles, turning her head. She isn't moving because, well, doctor's in session and she doesn't want to disrupt anything. Upon closer inspection, the Insecticons are eating away all the damaged mesh while leaving clean, healthy edges for repairs, while the green arachnicon creates repair points with intricate weaving. "You look like you could use some repairs too - who'd you get into a scrap with?" "Greetings, honored primordial!" the spider femme calls out from her work. "My name is Weaver, and if you have any questions or needs, please bring them to me. I would be delighted to serve you." "Another primordial. Lion type. Said she was a follower of Mythosomethingorothericus. Then wanted to fight. Ripped her jaw off and sent her running." Slag snorts. "She used flames like I do. My flames are much more powerful." Not like Hot Rod powerful, but still powerful. "Hello Weaver." the dynobot comments in recognition of the doctor, but he doesn't really ask for repairs, the stubborn mech. Weaver pauses in her work. "More?" She seems concerned about this, and it shows, but she's back to her work in short order. "Ohhh, that's not good. If there are more Primordials awakening, that means something terrible is on the horizon." One of the crickets looks up and chirps questioningly; Weaver looks back at it. "No, no, don't worry about it Echo, dear, just keep cleansing that corrosion. Everything will be all right." No it won't, but Weaver feels obligated to reassure her charges. "Slag, I have something to discuss with you - and really, you should let yourself get repaired - so please, dear spark, come closer," Starchamber beckons, holding out a hand to the dinobot. Slag frowns. "Not sure where she came from. Don't know. Will keep her away if she tries, though." the dyno shrugs his shoulders, that is until Starchamber calls for him. The mech looks down at her and frowns, but does indeed close the distance to allow her to catch his hand. "You get repaired first. I will get repaired in due time." he promises her, even as he offers a grim smile. "What do you want to talk about?" Starchamber holds Slag's hand, reassured by it. She just loves being in physical contact with the dinobot. "Well, do you remember... last time?" She hints subtly about what kind of 'last time' she's thinking of. "Did you want to have a ceremony? Make that question you popped more 'official'?" she beams. Last time. Last time. OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, /that/ last time. Slag finally seems to realize exactly what she's talking about and looks around. "With a crowd?" he asks, and starts to undo his spark chamber. Then pauses. "Oh right. Question." he clears his vocalizer, closing that chamber before it's fully opened. Ahem. Right. "Yes." he finally says, not at all a bit nervous at Starchamber's request. "Would you be my cojunx endura, Starchamber?" Starchamber smiles sweetly at Slag. "Of course I would. I'd be honored." Weaver stands up a little bit, overjoyed. "Ohh, this is wonderful!" she announces, giddy at the prospect of being present for such a special occassion and willing to help. She claps her hands, shifting into a "drider" form - humanoid from the waist up; spider from the waist down. "Echo, Bit, are you finished? We'll need to clean up Mister Slag. Can't have him looking like that for such a special time!" She looks over at Slag, "That is, if you'd allow us the honor? As a duly trained and appointed priestess of this temple, I can officiate your joining, and advise you of your spark compatability." "That is so weird." Slag has to admit. He tries to imagine a half-dino, half-humanoid form. Nope, no Gerwalk forms here. The mech looks confused for a moment and then lets out an exhale with a shake of his head. Though in the end. "Go ahead. It is not much damage." he admits as he moves to take a seat next to Starchamber. "Make room." he teases her. "Stealing bed. Not even joined yet." Starchamber laughs softly. "Okay, I think I'm almost done." She's wrong, she's totally done, and Weaver moves delicately aside, tracking backwards as Echo and Bit hop off the triplechanger onto the ground. Star moves off the slab and sits down beside it, to let Slag get up on it next. "Your intended has a good, strong spark, with a Megatronian spin," Weaver pronounces to the dinobot. "I'm certain you've probably figure that out all ready, however." Because -everyone- can read sparks, you know. "Uh. Yeah. Green. Pretty." Slag says, looking at Weaver like she may have slipped a gear and gotten it stuck. Need some WD-40 for that? He lays back, his armor scarred and burnt, with that left knee taking the brunt of it all as he reaches down to settle his hand over Starchamber's cockpit. Not in a sexual matter. Just putting his hand on her core. Echo and Bit hop up onto Slag, crawling along his body to look for the damaged and burned pieces first. They settle in to begin delicately nibbling away the dross in neat lines, back and forth. It's an old form of medicine, but it works just fine. Weaver's tiny legs *tik tik* against the slab as she gets back up, and adjusts what look like a pair of glasses perched on her nasal ridge. "Hmm. Plasma damage, definitely the work of a primordial," she assesses. "Mister Slag... this isn't your original shape, is it?" Star places her hand over Slag's, and halfway hugs his arm, cuddled against it. Just small hints of the original form remain inside of Slag. The more technical form. As he hugs Star back to him, the dynobot frowns. "No. We were forced into these modes during a battle. Our medic, Skar, used new technology to make the sudden change. Cost him his life. Cost us our freedom. And maybe sanity. If I change forms, I cannot control who I am or what happens. Maybe makes me a blasphemer, in some way." he shrugs. He never claimed to be a god or special in any way. He's just a bigaft mech. "No, it makes you a hybrid," Weaver pronounces kindly. "And there's no shame in that. You did what you must to survive, and to punish anyone for such a decision is madness." Echo greedily nibbles the blackened areas of Slag's body, purring (yes, purring, Bob does it too) contentedly. "But I understand your concern. Primordials are different from Cybertronians -- cousins, perhaps, but not the same. There is likely some struggle between the two halves of yourself, but do not despair for your situation. Your light shines blue, and not the baleful yellow of the old ones. You can yet master this new facet of your existence." "Don't despair. Just use it when need to." Like he told Starchamber once. The secret is: Always be mad. Much anger = more firepower. Stronger. Faster. Better. Harder. Or something like that. "Distant cousins. Lightyears apart." the mech comments as he watches the creatures working on him, and his armor creaks in appreciation. "Rest of team like me. No control over other form. Trying to find our way." "Primordials are older than the present generations of Cybertronians. Older than the Primes, older than the Knights. They are the war beasts of Mortilus himself, created for battle, destruction and death," Weaver explains. "For millions of years they were believed to be exinct, but as we encroach into the depths of the planet, it would seem that they are returning from the dead." The arachnicon begins mesh-webbing replacement parts, knitting them together out of the spinnerettes in her hands, shaping the liquid into solid with a dexterity seen only in forged surgeons. Starchamber raises Slag's hand up from her torso to her face. She's particularly cuddly today and has no problems being demonstrative of her affections. "Now, if it's all right with you, I'd like to take a look at your spark, just for a moment, Mister Slag," Weaver asks. Mortilus. That was it. Slag huhs. "That is who Primordial said last night she followed. Didn't look that old." the Dynobot says with a grunt. His hand traces along her face, studying her lines with only touch, getting to know her intimately with his finger pads. "When did she look at your spark? I missed that. Dammit." Slag teases Starchamber playfully before he lets out an exhale and allows the seals on his spark chamber to seperate, giving access to Weaver to take a look. "While she was repairing me. She asked, and I allowed it," Starchamber replies, leaning into Slag's touch a little more. Weaver hmmms, looking at the spark a bit. "Ah -ha-." She laughs softly. "Let me guess, the attraction was immediate, the courtship was fast, and the passion is intense and even a bit brutal?" Echo and Bit finish nibbling away the rest of the damage, leaving behind cleansed wounds that Weaver can sew up. The two little Insecticons transform into casette-sized root modes, skittering off out the door. "What else you tell her?" Slag asks Starchamber with a chuckle and snorts. "She started it." he points out proudly. Hey, she's a babe. He wants everyone to know she /wanted/ him /first/ thank you very much. The triplechanger laughs. "I didn't tell her anything!" she insists, mock-embarassed. She's quite pleased with her dinohusband and she's quite happy to be dinowife. "Your spark is -also- Megatronian. You're of the same tribe, so it's only natural you'd be drawn to each other," Weaver chortles as she fills in missing pieces and components on Slag's torso, repairing him quickly. "Megatronus Prime has something of a bad reputation thanks to the efforts of his enemies - they call him the Lord of Chaos, or the Fallen, but he was never an agent of evil. Megatronus was a warrior. He was proud, passionate, strong of emotion, and devoted to the cause of individuality. This made him the natural counter part of Prima, who wished to draw everyone into regimented order - like Nova Prime, his successor." Weaver moves lower and starts to work on Slag's knee, and as she does so, the two Insecticons, Echo and Bit, return with pots full of some kind of energon-like fuel. "Megatronus was a weaponsmith and brought an end to things that lingered too long. No one likes endings, but they can become necessary, especially when the individual and the self risks being smothered or killed." Weaver notes with humor, "He was also the first of the thirteen to find love and passion in the arms of Solus Prime, the ancestress of carriers. If there was one weakness to the Dynbots - any Dynobot really - Weaver has accidentally discovered it. As she starts to tell her story, the normally grumpy mech becomes quiet as she works on him. There's no threats, no anger. Nothing but quiet awe and rapt attention as the story is told to him. "Tell me more." he says, honest and ready to hear more story time. "Solus was carrier? Like vehicle carrier?" he asks curiously. "Or shuttle?" the idea that Starchamber may have been fated for Blast Off suddenly hits his neural net and there's an uncomfortable twitch to his fingers. "Have you ever seen a mech or a femme that can dock minicons into their bodies?" Weaver asks Slag, noting his love of story time. She's all too happy to indulge him, she's an old femme and only the residents of Stanix revere this temple and faith anymore. Cursed Functionists. "-That- is a carrier. Solus was the inventor of the Primes. With her forge she could create anything requested of her, and when Micronus, the Prime of Minicons, was with her, she seemed to be capable of much greater feats of engineering and detail." Less Shuttle, more Soundwave. Weaver gestures to the enormous statue in the back of the temple, before the altar, the figure of a massive beast Prime ( http://tfwiki.net/mediawiki/images2/c/c1/10OnyxPrime.jpg ). "Solus was friend to our own Lord Onyx, the Prime of beasts, as well as Nexus, the Prime of Combiners. Her warm and gentle spark created a community out of the Thirteen Primes, and for a time the tribes their oversaw were also at harmony and peace." "Oh." Slag says, releived that is what a carrier is, not you know, an actual carrier. He looks towards the statues and huhs gently as he listens to the story continue. He tries so hard not to interupt story time. It really is the one time he feels sorta.. normal. "So Solus makes Primes. But Primes are not peaceful." At least not the ones that Slag has met so far. "Why are they different?" he asks, confusion in his voice. Weaver is nearly done with Slag's knee. Bit sets a pot of ener-honey down near Slag, while Echo brings one to Starchamber. "Solus didn't make the Primes, I'm sorry; she was an inventor FOR them. She created their unique artifacts. I should have made that clearer," the spiderette notes with amusement. "The Primes are different because... well, I guess that's just how Primus wanted them to be. After the war among the Guiding Hand, when Mortilus was destroyed, Adaptus, Solomus and Epistimus reduced to bare parts, Primus repopulated the world with the Knights of Cybertron, the inheritors of the Hand, and repeopled Cybertron. There was a cataclysm that caused the Knights to take to the stars in living ships, seeding the colony worlds -- such as your own Combatron, Starchamber." This gets the femme's attention; her wings prick up in notice. "Then Primus made the thirteen Primes, and the world was filled with their correlating tribes. Three cycles so far in death and rebirth. The fact that the Primordials are waking concerns me that there is the possibility of a fourth." Slag nods his head slowly as he continues to listen. She even gets away with correcting him without any complaint. Seriously, storytime, Starchamber. Make a note of it. "And Animatron, like where Airazor comes from?" the mech thinks to ask as the dynobot makes mental notes. Not that they will stick around, he can probably here this story twenty more times and still enjoy it every single time. "Correct," Weaver answers, finishing the knee. "There you are, all fixed up. The silksteel will act as a framework to help guide your autorepair systems into filling in the missing pieces on their own. Echo and Bit have brought you some of their energon honey to help complete the maintenance. Because Echo and Bit can feed as Primus intended, their energon honey is rich in metals and minerals that will speed your repair systems. It's their way of bartering you for the privilege of feeding on your corrosion." "Oh. Uh. Thanks?" Slag says as he takes the honey and sniffs at it before taking a drink. Snack snack snack. Oh snap. Sweet. Gobble gobble glorp slurp. Messy eater, a dynobot is as he eagerly eats his helping and then gives Starchamber a look. She's not that hungry, is she? Star covers her hand with her mouth, trying not to giggle at Slag's eating habits. Some femmes would think this is horrifying, she finds it endearing. "Oh I intend to have mine too, just - maybe not that quickly," she reassures him, picking up the pot and tipping it towards him. "Cheers, sweetspark," she says, before drinking. "Now, if you'd like to be bonded, I can have Echo get the red sash and we can do it straight away, or if you want to have time to get polished and cleaned up first, we can wait. It's your call," says Weaver. "Uh. I'm ready if you are, Starchamber." Slag says, glancing towards her to see how she feels about the whole idea of getting linked up right frigging now. Starchamber's still giggling a little as she sets down the empty pot. "How about we at least wipe your face first?" she offers. Weaver chuckles as well, quickly knitting up a cloth 'handkerchief' out of her webbing with her fingers, handing it over to Slag. "Echo dear, go get the red sash." The little but squeaks and chitters excitedly, rushing back out of the temple. What? He has a little honey - oh. Well, he was never a clean eater. Slag takes the rag and rubs it all over his face and then looks at it. Waste not, want not, right? With that, he eats the rag to get rid of it. "Better?" he asks, looking between the two. Starchamber is struggling not to laugh out loud. "Just fine!" she manages to blurt out. Oh yes, this is definitely the right choice. Weaver, however, -does- laugh just a bit. "Oh, that's perfectly fine - just don't eat the sash, we need that for other ceremonies." She clears her vents and transforms into root mode, walking up to the dias underneath the massive statue of Onyx Prime. "All right, if you two will join me here, please?" Echo rushes back in, carrying a long strip of red silksteel cloth, which is decorated with gold threads and multicolored gemstone beads in intricate weaving. Embroidery in Primal Vernacular spells out something along its length, but few can read the old script. As long as the sash isn't covered in honey, he won't eat it. Promise. Slag slides off the table, and allows Starchamber to lead the way as he moves to go stand next to her. And listens to the Arachnoid talk but Primus knows he has no clue what she's saying. Starchamber takes Slag's hand as she steps up to the dais in front of the much, much smaller Arachnicon. Echo hands over the sash to Weaver, and takes her place at the arachnicon's side. The wide-eyed cricket bounces on her heels, excited for the goings on. "The bond of Conjunx Endura is not to be entered lightly. It is intended to join two sparks together as permanent unit, where each half of this bond devotes selfless, outgoing concern for the other. Slag, Starchamber: Do you both understand this? Are you willing bind yourselves together, until your sparks extinguish, until the stars themselves grow cold, and all life turns back to the beginning as one?" Slag looks towards the femme. Studying her for the longest of moments. At least he's proving that there is no rush in this case as he gives her hand a tight squeeze and then nods. "Aye. I will." he says finally and glances towards her with a grin. Starchamber looks back at Slag. She barely knows him, and yet, she feels like she's always known him. Having seen into his mind and his spark, she likes what she finds there: enough mystery to make her want to explore and fight alongside him, enough familiarity that he feels like coming home. The triplechanger squeezes his hand back and replies to Weaver, "I understand, and I am." She returns that grin. Echo jumps up and down and makes a cheering noise - at least until Weaver clears her vents and gives her a disapproving look. The little cricket suddenly covers her mouth, remembering that she's not supposed to cheer -yet-. Oops. The arachnicon priestess spreads the sash in her hands and drapes it over and around the two taller bots as they hold hand, a symbolic binding. "Then as the residing priestess of this temple, I draw the red cord of destiny, duty and unity around you both, to bond you together, spark and frame, and may Onyx, Lord of Beasts and Primus the Creator bless this union. Till all are one." She pulls at one end of the sash and it slips with a whisper of rustling fabric and tinkling jewels away from the arms of the newly minted endurae. Slag twines his fingers with hers, listening to the words as they are spoken and bonding them together. As he takes it all in, his grip tightens with hers. They have already shared a lot together and still have a lot to learn about each other. And he looks forward to it. Just astroseconds after Weaver has finished the ceremony, Slag unceremoniously dips his cojunx and plants one right on her lips, pulling Star in tight to him. Starchamber wraps her arms around Slag and just kisses him right back. Echo looks at Weaver expectantly. The spider nods and grins. "Yes, now." The little bug squeeeees in a cheer, hopping up and down and running around in celebration. Mrf. Well, there's that. And finally he moves to set Starchamber back up right. "Mine." he says to her playfully. She's claimed. Off the market. No longer available no matter who or what comes knocking. "Mine, too." Starchamber winks. Oh yes, they're in mutual agreement on that. "I do hate to interrupt this moment, but I wanted to make an offer to you both while you're still both here," Weaver interrupts, handing the joining sash over to the excited little bug, who runs back out again like a child mid-sugar rush. "Could I convince the both of you to join the village?" Releasing Starchamber, but remaining close to her, Slag frowns as Weaver makes her pitch. The dynobot considers, looking between the others and then blows out an exhaust as his whole frame seems to visibly slump. "Are you a fan of the off-world shows?" he asks Weaver. And then he considers her. Duh, she's not. "There's one called The Incrediolous Bulk. This guy goes from place to place. He's just looking for a place he can fit in and be. But he's got a secret. Whenever he's aroused he turns into this massive afthole that pisses everyone off and he gets thrown out of wherever he is, and off he goes again to a sad piano refrain." "That's sorta the case with me. I'm not a good mech. Or even a nice one. I've done some dirty scrap in my time and probably will continue to do so. And I got this whole other half of me that wants to be in control so it can be out of control if that makes any sense." Glancing towards the ground, as much as he wants to say yes, he's having a hard time selling himself on it. "And there's the fact that according to Starchamber, the Bots are now hunting me down for arrest. I don't want to bring you any trouble, Weaver." he says finally, defeated in a way. "I thank you for the repairs, but I ain't sure that I'd help any around here." "Then that's all the more reason you should stay, Slag." The Arachnicon has listened and thought over it, but still feels the desire to help. "We are not a particularly large people, if you haven't noticed. We survive through our wits and our cunning, but it takes dozens of us to turn over a transport when it tips over in the wastes. All we would ask for is your strength, here and there, and in return, we will share maintenance and energon with you. You don't have to stay long, but you're welcome here. If you fear your inner self getting the better of you, we can arrange for a habitation dome at the edge of the village, just in case." Starchamber looks over at Slag, thoughtful on this. "It's your call, dearspark. I'll follow your lead. I trust you." Slag considers. Not having to run or fight for fuel would be a plus. Not to mention Weaver might help him find a way to calm that other side of him. Who knows, meditation or something. He considers and then nods. "Very well. We'll stay. For now." he finally relents. "We need a place we can stay and not have to worry about where we will be the next cycle." It's a sad but true admission. They're both on the run. "I'll let Jumper and Fisher know. We're not Polyhexian resort, but we can have a home raised for you by the end of the day," Weaver says. "I wouldn't want a resort anyways," Starchamber grins. "I'm content to live in ruins, so long as it's with Slag." She cuddles up to him and hugs him. Hugging her back, Slag kisses her at the base of her throat - oh the advantages of her being taller and then nods. "Starchamber and I will help with what we can, then." "Mmmmn, husband and home in one day. I'd say that this will be a hard one to top," Starchamber purrs affectionately at Slag.